and went back a second time. And I saw her again. I hadn’t been mistaken, the likeness was even more pronounced. The third time, I was determined to speak to the nuns, to ask who she was. I’d taken care to work on my French, and I thought I could persuade them that I knew the child’s father. Only this time, the house was empty. I went around the village, frantically asking what had become of them. The old priest told me they’d moved south of Angers. His housekeeper was sure that some of the nuns and a number of the children had been taken in by a convent near Caen. The next time I saw Roger, I asked him what he knew about the house. And he said he’d never heard of them. I reminded him of the perpetual prayers. He told me then that he’d lied to me about them, that it was a gambling debt he was anxious to pay. But that was a lie as well. I’ve never known Roger Ellis to gamble. I went on searching, but France was in chaos, and one small group of orphans was impossible to track down. And then the bottom fell out of my world. Malcolm was killed, I was wounded and sent back to England, unable to learn anything at all. It was enough to turn anyone’s mind.”
Lieutenant Hughes lifted the decanter again, and I said quietly, “Perhaps you’ve had enough for one night.”
He nodded, putting it back where he’d found it. Raising his head to meet my gaze, he said, “I told Ellis outright that I knew why he’d been sending money to the nuns. He told me then that the mother had died after childbirth, and the child’s father had asked him to see that the child was cared for. I called him a liar to his face, and he told me I could believe what I damned well pleased. But I was haunted by what I’d seen, and I wouldn’t let it go. I kept asking, and he refused to answer me, except to say I’d been delirious. And all this while, even from England, I’ve done everything I could to find the nuns. But they might as well have vanished.”
The little ormolu clock on the mantelpiece chimed two, the silvery notes loud in the quiet room.
“Good God, I’ve kept you up all night,” he said contritely.
“Can you rest now?” I asked.
“Yes. For the first time I know what to do. Thank you for listening. You won’t-you won’t share what I’ve said with Lydia, will you? Or anyone else? It would be unkind. And God knows, I’ve done enough damage already.” He shrugged, annoyance mingled with embarrassment. “I must have drunk more than I knew, to confess like this.”
“I see no reason to hurt them. If Roger wishes them to hear the truth, it’s best coming from him, don’t you think?”
“Thank you. Good night, then, Sister.”
After he had gone, I made myself as comfortable as I could, regretting having to sleep in my pale green dress, but there was nothing I could do about it. With a sigh, I pulled a large silk cushion from one of the other chairs and wrapped my arms around it to keep me warm. And after some little time, I was finally able to sleep, although it was a fitful rest at best.
I awoke the next morning to a hubbub somewhere in the house. Smoothing my hair with my hands, I put the silk cushion and the lap rug back where I’d found them, then went to the door. The shouting seemed to be coming from the hall. I hurried in that direction, not knowing what I would find. But the urgency told me that something was wrong.
Lydia stood in the middle of the room in her traveling dress, the same coat she’d worn when first I’d encountered her in London. Her face was set, and at her feet was a large valise. A smaller one was clutched tightly in her hand.
It was Roger Ellis who was doing the shouting, telling her that he wouldn’t allow her to go away again. His mother was trying to pour oil on troubled waters, and Gran, standing to one side, was saying, “Lower your voices! What will Margaret and Eleanor think?” as if they were all that mattered. But everyone was ignoring her, their eyes on Lydia’s face.
She turned as I came into the hall. “There you are!” she exclaimed. “Where on earth have you been? I’d looked everywhere for you. You haven’t changed from last evening. Hurry and pack, Bess. I’ve already sent Daisy into Hartfield for the station carriage.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, adding, “it will take a few minutes to collect everything,” in the hope that this would give her a little time to change her mind. But I had a feeling she wouldn’t. I glanced at her husband, afraid he might strike Lydia again, if he was angry enough with her. The first blow was always the hardest. And that had been struck already.
“Ask Molly to help you, then. Bess, I beg of you. I can’t stay here, don’t you see?” Her eyes as well as her voice pleaded with me.
There was nothing else I could do. Casting a worried glance at Mrs. Ellis, hoping she could keep her son from losing his temper completely, I hurried away. Just outside the door to my room, I encountered Molly.
“I was just about to send for you.”
But she said, “Miss? Have you seen Lieutenant Hughes? He hasn’t been down for his breakfast, and he’s not in his room.”
“He’s probably gone for a walk. Mrs. Roger has asked me to hurry and pack. Will you help me?”
“I don’t think he even slept in his bed. It’s been turned down.”
“Turned down?” But Dr. Tilton and I had put him to bed, and I’d assumed he’d gone back there after leaving the sitting room. “Show me.”
She opened the door to the Lieutenant’s room, and I could see that she was right. The bed had been tidily made, and then turned back, as if ready for the night. I looked in the wardrobe. It was empty. When had he dressed and taken his luggage down?
“Is his motorcar still in the yard?”
“Yes, Miss, I remember seeing it there. The wing’s all dented.”
“Well, then, I shouldn’t worry.”
“It’s just that I need to be clearing away the dining room, before Mrs. Long begins preparations for the luncheon. And you’ve had no breakfast neither, Miss.”
“I’ve had a little headache,” I said, prevaricating. “Perhaps I’ll have a little tea later.”
She grinned. “I seen that you was sleeping in the sitting room when I come to make up the fires.”
“Mrs. Roger was in my bed,” I replied. We went back to my room, and I changed quickly into my traveling dress, and then between us we repacked my valises and set them by the door. When that was done, I said, “I’ve just looked at the time. It’s after ten. Lieutenant Hughes may be back by now.”
“Yes, Miss, I’ll go and have a look. Thank you, Miss.”
I went down to the hall, where Mrs. Ellis was sitting with Lydia. It was obvious that an uncomfortable silence had fallen between them while Lydia waited for me.
Mrs. Ellis said, “My dear, have you seen George this morning? I’ve been trying to persuade Lydia to talk to him before she leaves. Surely he can explain himself.”
“Molly was just looking for him. He must have gone for a walk.”
“Oh, dear, I expect he’s gone to St. Mary’s. Lydia, please, would you at least go with me to the church and hear what he has to say? There’s more than enough time before the train leaves. For my sake.”
“He’ll only lie. Just as he did last night,” she said, and I thought she was probably right.
Still, I said, “Lydia, I think Mrs. Ellis has a point. This is a major decision, after all. It can do no harm to hear what Lieutenant Hughes has to say. In the cold light of morning, when he’s completely sober.”
I could see that she wanted no part of anything that could weaken her resolve. But she said finally, “If we hurry. If it doesn’t hold us up.”
The first time she’d fled to London had been ill-considered. This time, she needed to be sure.
Mrs. Ellis said, “You won’t regret this, Lydia. And if it takes longer than it should, I’ll drive you to the railway station myself.”
“I’d rather go in the carriage,” Lydia said. “Thank you, but it’s better if I do. And that way, Roger can’t blame anyone else for my leaving.”
We brought down my valises, and just then I heard the carriage wheels on the drive.
Mrs. Ellis fetched her coat, and by that time we had taken our luggage out to the carriage and stowed it.
Daisy had just finished helping us, and Mrs. Ellis said to her as she turned toward the house, “Did you by any chance see Lieutenant Hughes in Hartfield?”
“Lieutenant Hughes? No, Ma’am. Should I have been looking for him?”
“No, not at all.” She turned to us. “Then it’s certain that he’s at St. Mary’s,” she said, joining us in the carriage.
